Lifestyle
by varietyofwords
Summary: Chuck and Blair. Oneshot. Post-finale. Because maybe he wants to be Mr. Blair Waldorf. Because maybe she wants to be Mrs. Chuck Bass. Because maybe this really is a part of their lifestyle.


**Author's Note:** The story Blair reads is _The Giving Tree_ by Shel Silverstein, and the promise she makes to Henry is adapted from _Love You Forever_ by Robert Munsch.

* * *

"Watch!"

He scoots forward, slides down the short slope of the bathtub meant to serve as a backrest rather than a slide. The water sloshes at the displacement his body causes, cascades onto the tiles surrounding the tub. His head rises out of the water with a wide grin on his face, a giggle on his lips, and a mound of bubbles serving as the crown on his head.

"Okay, crazy boy," his father says as he yanks a towel off the rack near the tub and drops it to the floor. "Keep it in the tub."

Henry pushes himself to his knees, peers over the edge of the tub as he watches his father drop to his knees and attempt to soak up some of the water. He glances over his shoulder at the slope of the tub, mentally tries to calculate how he can continue to slide into the tub without causing a bigger mess.

"Scoot over," his father instructs as he stands up.

Henry slides back under the water, pretends to swim over to the farthest edge of the tub whilst his father steps into the warm water. Chuck barely has time to sit down when Henry swims back over to him and tries to climb into his lap.

"Swim with me, Daddy!"

"The tub is a little small for Daddy," Chuck reminds him with a chuckle. There is no way he can even pretend to swim despite the expansive length of the tub because seated with his feet out in front of him, Chuck can press his heels into the other side of the tub. Henry huffs in exasperation, stands up and causes more of the bubbly water to slosh over the side. "And this is bath time not swim time."

"But we're wearing our swimsuits," Henry replies as he pulls on the fabric of his purple swim shorts. Chuck is wearing a matching pair, a leftover from their trip to the Hamptons only a few short weeks ago. "And I have my –"

Henry's hands fly to his head and when they come up empty, he frantically looks about the bathroom for his purple swim goggles. Chuck watches him with a raised eyebrow, tries to decipher what Henry is looking for. Henry's eyes widen as he remembers that he left his goggles in his own bathroom in his excitement over being allowed to take a bath in Mommy and Daddy's big tub.

"I'll be right back," Henry informs his father as he climbs out of the tub.

He takes off running, leaves behind his towel and his father's barked order that he slowdown in his haste. Chuck sighs as the little boy disappears around the corner, reaches for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge to wash his own hair whilst Henry fetches whatever he needs.

Chuck barely manages to open the lid and squirt a drop into his hand when he hears a loud thud in the distance. There is a brief moment of silence before a piercing cry, a wail of pain reaches his lips. He scrambles out of the tub, displaces much of the water in his haste as he hurries out of the room.

Halfway down the hallway is Henry. The little boy is still lying on his stomach, but his face is scrunched and red as fat tears roll down his cheeks. Chuck immediately scoops his son up in his arms, pats his back reassuringly as he tries to ascertain what exactly hurts.

"Daddy," Henry pitifully whimpers, pressing his face into the crook of his father's neck.

Chuck strides back to the bathroom, perches himself on the edge of the tub as he checks Henry for cuts, scrapes, and bruises. There is a tiny scrap on the little boy's right knee, and Chuck presses his lips to the owie in an attempt to make it better the way Blair's kisses do.

Henry sniffles before agreeing that it feels better. Chuck reaches over, grabs the second towel of the rack, and wraps the little boy up to ward off the chill that accompanies cooling air.

"Do you want to get back in the tub? Show me how good of a swimmer you are?"

Henry nods his head, sniffles as he slides out of his father's lap and back into the water. He lies back in the water, kicks his legs emphatically as he shows his father how strong and powerful his kicks are. At least, that's what his swim coach in the Hamptons told him.

"Good job. That's some good kicking," his father praises, and he beams. "Now sit up. We need to wash your hair."

"I wanna do it," Henry replies as he holds his hand out for the dollop of shampoo.

He massages it into his scalp just the way his mommy taught him before dipping his hand in the water to wash away the excess. He closes his eyes and squeezes them shut tightly as his father puts his hand against his forehead to block the streaming water as he dumps cup after cup of water on his head.

"All done, Henry," Chuck replies as he scoops the little boy back out of the water.

He sets Henry's bare feet down on the plush bathmat, the same one he pushed away from the tub to prevent it from becoming wet during Henry's bath. Chuck wraps the little boy up in a fresh towel, tells him to walk carefully back to his room to get his pajamas. The little boy nods solemnly, walks slowly back to his own room as Chuck pulls the drain on the tub and quickly steps into the shower to wash off the suds from Henry's bath and his own hair.

Henry returns in his silk pajamas with the buttons of his pajama top misaligned and Monkey in tow just as Chuck steps out of the shower. He pulls out the seat of his mother's vanity, climbs up with a shout that the babysitter is here. With a towel slung low on his hips, Chuck blow dries Henry's hair before turning his attention to his own. He combs his hair and smiles when he sees Henry doing the same.

"Hey, Henry, why don't you go give Monkey his dinner while I get dressed?" Henry sighs before sliding off the stool, before calling for Monkey to follow him back downstairs. The dog follows close on his heels as Chuck calls out after the boy and his best friend. "Get Ira to help you!"

Fatherhood has made him a quick dresser thanks to years of waiting until the last minute to pull off his robe and put on his clothes so as to avoid spit up, drool, and sticky fingers. He heads downstairs only a few minutes after Henry's departure and finds his son playing with his cars on the floor of the living room.

Chuck greets the Croatian woman sitting on the couch and thanks Ira for coming. With Dorota helping Blair, they had to call in back up in the form of a neighbor of Dorota's that fills in when the Polish woman is unavailable. He reiterates the plan for the night before swooping in and stealing a kiss from his son.

"Bye, Henry. Be good for Ira," he tells the little boy softly. "Mommy and I will see you in the morning."

"Bye, Daddy."

Arthur is waiting for him in front of the townhouse. He climbs in without waiting for the driver to open the door for him, glances at the clock, and tells Arthur to hurry.

He slides into his seat just as the house lights dim, slides in with just enough time to give the blonde seated next to him a perfunctory kiss against her cheek in greeting and feel the sigh of relief against his cheek in reply. The bright lights of the stage, the dramatic rise of the music pulls their attention back to the reason for their appearance.

Fifteen minutes of sultry innocence. Fifteen minutes of sweet deviousness. Fifteen minutes of the perfect blend of the two halves that make her whole. Fifteen minutes of sitting in sheer of awe of her.

The applause when the last model completed her catwalk, when she steps onto the runway is thunderous, but no one claps as loudly as he. She soaks it all in, beams at the accolades just as he soaks her in, beams at the way she gets everything she has ever deserved.

People around him buzz about the show, gush about this dress and that one even before the show is technically over. The lights rise and expose buyers for Bendel, Bergdorf, and Bloomingdales clutching cell phones to their ears as they attempt to finagle exclusive deals.

"She better not sell that red dress before I have the chance to wear it," the blonde next to him hisses as he escorts her away from the runway.

He hums a noncommittal reply, bits his tongue from informing her that she would never look as good in that particular dress as his wife. Nor would she look as good as her best friend when the zipper is tugged down and the dress slides off of her. Of that, he is certain.

"Charles," his mother-in-law breathes in greeting before her attention is pulled elsewhere.

"Another fabulous show," his father-in-law says as he shakes hands with his son-in-law. Chuck offers his agreement, looks past the shorter man to see her stepping from backstage. He excuses himself, misses the twinkle of understanding in his father-in-law's eye as he moves towards her. By the time he reaches her, however, she is already wrapped up in conversation with reporters and fashion directors.

"The clothes were amazing," he murmurs in her ear just low enough that only she can hear. "You are amazing."

She grins, glows as she gestures to those clustered around her. Some of them he knows but most he does not recognize, and he prepares himself to conduct introductions.

"I'm Blair's husband," he says, placing the priority on the role he born for. "I'm Chuck Bass."

* * *

"Well, said the tree,' straightening herself up as much as she could, 'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.' And the boy did."

Smaller fingers help turn the page before falling back onto his lap. He looks over the letter and the simple, black and white pictures as her voice reads the final two sentences aloud to him.

"And the tree was happy. The end."

She moves to close the book, but his small hand moves to the middle of the book and stops her from shutting the storybook. She glances down at him in question and sees two eager eyes staring back up at her.

"Again, Mommy," he demands. She purses her lips, shakes her head no as she informs him that this is the third story of the night.

"I'm not sleepy," he informs her.

The lull of his head against her chest, the poorly stifled yawn tells her otherwise, though. He folds his arms across his chest in protest, and she has to stifle a laugh at how much he looks like his father when he doesn't get his way.

"Time for bed, Henry," she replies as she slips out of the bed beside him, places the book on his nightstand, and tucks the covers around him. "Do you have your bear?"

"Uh huh," Henry tells her as he yanks his stuffed bear out from under the covers and holds it up to her.

"Good," Blair tells him as she plants a kiss against his forehead. He moves quickly, uses the opportunity to his advantage as he loops his arms around her neck and holds her in place.

"Take me with you," he sighs dramatically, earning himself a laugh for his efforts.

She reminds him of their deal for the night – three stories, an hour of television, and no protests at bed time. He scowls at the reminder, mumbles something about making a better deal next time. She smiles, plants a kiss against his lips, and breathes out her solemn promise to him.

"I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my Henry you'll be."

"I love you, Mommy," Henry replies, placing a kiss against her cheek.

"I love you, too," Blair tells him. "Sleep tight. I'll see you for breakfast in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

He clutches his bear to his chest, rolls to his side, and burrows his face into his pillow as he closes his eyes. Blair walks quietly out of the room, checks to make sure the nightlight is on before flipping off the overhead light and shutting the door tight behind her. She heads down the hallway to her own bedroom, finds Dorota waiting with her dress for the evening.

"Miss Blair, Arthur waiting downstairs," Dorota informs her as she zips up the red dress. With a last minute addition of her earrings and jewelry followed by quick glance in the mirror, she sweeps out of the house and down several flights of stairs with a dramatic flourish.

"Dorota, call if –"

"Mister Henry be fine," Dorota promises as she moves to shut the front door of the townhouse behind you. "I take care of you, didn't I?"

The words aren't much of a comfort considering the amount of trouble and scraps she got into as a child, but the darkness of the evening sky reminds her that she is already running late and she lets the comment go without commentary. Arthur holds the door open for her, greets her as he helps settle the fabric of her gown amongst the seat around her.

The party tonight has an entirely different tone than the one thrown right after her marriage. Then, the public relations department at Bass Industries had thrown together something to assure the panicky Board of Directors the transition from father to son would be a smooth one. Tonight, however, the party is a celebration of the fidelity of the company and the opening of a brand new hotel.

"Blair," Serena gushes when she arrives, "this place is amazing."

She smiles in agreement, relishes in the surroundings. The party is in full-swing, and a quick sweep of the room shows multiple celebrities and even the mayor in attendance. Serena asks her if the dress she is wearing is from her collection even as Nate and Dan approach her, each greeting her in turn. She continues to scan the room, spies Lily and her husband talking with members of the Board of Directors before her eyes land on him in the middle of the room talking with people she does not immediately recognize.

For a few minutes, she watches him, watches the way he moves and talks with a confident ease. For a few minutes, she watches how he is always the businessman, watches how he is always wheeling and dealing as he marches towards his next idea and his next profit.

She excuses herself from her group of friends, moves across the room with a head held high as a few in the room say hello to her. She does not stop to speak, greets them with perfunctory excitement as she comes to stand next to him. His hand immediately, possessively snakes around her waist, and he begins to introduce her to the businessmen he had been conversing with. She cuts him off, holds out her hand to the first man of the group, and makes her own introductions.

"Hello," she greets with a perfect smile. "I'm Chuck's wife, Blair."

* * *

"Daddy," Henry admonishes as he holds up the two colorful bills his father just handed him. "You forgot to pay for the hotel."

Chuck moves to fight his son, but is immediately cut off when Blair points towards the plastic, red house on the square his silver play piece has just landed on. She smirks as he hands over an additional four hundred dollars, bringing the grand total to one thousand four hundred dollars and effectively causing him to lose the game.

"Daddy's all out of money," Blair informs them with mock sadness before turning her head and sharing a grin with her son.

"This isn't fair," Chuck protests. "You two ganged up on me."

Henry shakes his head, immediately offers a handful of cash to his father to make up for the loss. His hand is pushed away by his mother, who immediately informs him that the first rule of business is to never bail out your opponent.

"But it's okay for him to bail you out?" Chuck questions, reminding her of the financial bailout she received only twenty minutes ago from their young son.

"That's different," Blair retorts. "That was a merger."

"Uh huh," Henry affirms, not realizing that his mother brought nothing to the table in this merger other than two railroads and a handful of cheaper properties on the board. "Mommy and I are a team."

He offers them both a wide grin, which widens when he hears the doorbell to their home ring. He takes off running and shouting in excitement, beating Dorota down the stairs as the maid steps out of the kitchen and heads to the front door.

"Let Dorota open the door!"

His parents shout out the command in unison, and his mother stands up from her chair to begin packing away the pieces of the game in preparation of dinner. Chuck wraps his arm around her waist, tugs her into his lap with a squeal as the paper money bunched in her hand flutters back to the table. A kiss is pressed against the slope of her neck, a breathy greeting whispered in her ear. She turns her head to press her lips against his, but becomes distracted by the pile of multicolored paper in his lap.

"You cheated," she shrieks.

"Shh," he shushes. "I just wanted him to win. It is his night, after all."

She rolls her eyes because he acts as if the smell of pizza wasn't currently wafting up the stairs towards them wasn't enough of a reminder. But words he speaks are true. The past few nights have been spent away from their son, spent tag team parenting as they both attempt to chase their dreams. One night at her fashion show, one night at his grand opening, and now one night spent following Henry's every whim.

"You know he's going to make us watch that movie again," she huffs.

"Better that than _Tiffany's_," he snorts in response. She rewards him with an indignant cry, and he smirks against the skin of her shoulder. "His bedtime is in less than two hours."

"And what do you propose we do then?"

"Oh, I can think of something," he replies darkly. He slides his hand across her belly, press against her through the fabric of her dress until she jerks against him.

"And what would that be?"

Her question is a breathy moan rather than the sharp question she intended it to be. He nods against her skin, whispers wickedly in her ear just as Henry comes bounding up the stairs with Dorota and pizza in tow.

"Your favorite part of the Chuck Bass lifestyle."

"Pizza's here!" Henry interjects excitedly.

Blair slides out of her husband's lap, takes her own seat at the table next to him, and smiles as Henry climbs back into his chair. Dorota sets the pizza in front of them, helps gather up the pieces of the game as Blair passes out the plates to her husband and son. Henry digs in first, offers them a huge grin as he chows down on a slice of his favorite pizza.

"You're wrong."

The words pull Chuck's attention to his wife, and he meets the shake of her head with an inquisitive look.

"This is my favorite part of the Chuck Bass lifestyle. The other thing? It's a close second."


End file.
